


Won't You Stay?

by everlovingdeer



Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [177]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exes, F/M, Misunderstandings, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22943407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlovingdeer/pseuds/everlovingdeer
Summary: “We dated for 5 years, and you ended it all with a letter. You let me come home from an Auror mission to a bloody letter.” His words quickened, finally pouring out of him as he confessed what he felt. “You didn’t have it in you to at least wait until I came home, to even tell me to my face that you were leaving me. Or evenwhyyou were leaving me.”
Relationships: Adrian Pucey/Original Female Character(s), Adrian Pucey/Reader
Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [177]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461751
Kudos: 106





	1. Won't You Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to other sites on 14/02/2020

With the academic year approaching once more, the shop was abuzz with parents and students hovering around and waiting to be seen. There were so many people packed into the small robe shop that it felt like we were all sardines, crammed into a tin. The air, heavy with humidity was making my hair frizz but that was the least of my problems. 

In one of the small appointment rooms in the back of the shop, I surveyed the soon to be first-year who stood on the pedestal, looking into the mirror whilst an anxious mother hovered over my shoulder and assessed my every move as if _they_ had been the one to undergo years of training this job required. But, I didn’t let it phase me, not when this mother was the same as most the mothers of soon to be first years that I tended to today. With the tape measure wrapped loosely around my neck like the most unfashionable scarf on the planet, I kneeled in front of the eleven-year-old who shuffled anxiously on his feet.

“Stop that,” his mother commanded her son, watching me like a hawk as I crouched down in front of the pedestal and folded up the hem of the too long robes so it was no longer touching the floor. Removing a clothespin from the pincushion on my wrist, I fastened it into place and slowly made my way around, adjusting the hem as I went. 

Standing at last, I took a few steps back and surveyed the kid once more. _He_ didn’t want to be here and it was obvious but his mother took that as a cue to come forward and to survey the robe. 

“Is it a little wonky?” she asked critically and I held back an eye roll because it _wasn’t_ wonky. I’d been trained and worked here long enough to know that it was _not_ wonky. 

Still, I promised to check it again as I finally helped the kid off from his step. Relieved and thankful, he shrugged out of his robes, throwing them towards me, not knowing just how much work went into making the bloody thing. But, I held my tongue, looking back to the mother who paid no heed to her son as he tried to pull her out of the shop. 

“So what needs to be done now?” she asked, eyes on me as I folded the robes meticulously and rested them onto the table in the corner. “It’s been a while since I’ve had robes made up for Hogwarts.”

“The final changes will be made in time for Hogwarts and it will be spelled to allow the transformation into his House regalia,” I assured, leaning back against the table and absentmindedly reaching into my drawer and pulling out more clothespins that I added to the pincushion. “We can have a final fitting if you desire and we’ll have time to make some last-minute changes. But I’m confident that this is the last change that we’ll need to make.”

“Good, good.” Gathering her son, the older witch prepared to leave and I followed her to the door.

Holding it open and gesturing them through, I called out, “You can either pay a deposit now and pay the rest on the final fitting. Or you can pay them all in one go. The payment options can be discussed at the till.”

“Thank you,” the mother called out distractedly, having no choice but to listen to her son as he took her by the hand and pulled at her. 

Returning once more to the small fitting room that I worked from, I settled back again behind it, tucking the chair inside. Reaching for the file on the next customer, I flicked through it and breathed out a tired sigh; this really was the _worst_ timing. A bridal robe fitting was the last thing I needed amongst a schedule packed full of school robes fitting. But there was little I could do about it now. 

There was a knock on the door that had me closing the file and tucking it safely away. “Miss Jareau?”

“Come in, come in,” I said, pushing away from the table and approaching the rack in the corner where the robes I was working on today were stored. Retrieving the bridal robe, I pulled it out and held it in front of me and I turned, expecting to find the future bride.

It wasn’t.

“Mrs - Mrs Pucey,” I started slowly; she was the _very_ last person I’d ever expected to see. “I - Can I help you?”

“I was hoping we could talk,” the older witch started, walking into the room and shutting the door behind her. She stood in front of the door, clutching at her purse as if it would save her when _really_ I was the one who would need saving.

“I have a busy schedule,” I tried to reason, hoping for a way out. 

“The receptionist agreed to push your appointments back.” Defiantly, the pureblooded witch met my eyes and I was forced to remember the last time she had looked at me like that. It was when she’d cornered me with her husband, demanding that I end the relationship I shared with her son. The last time I’d consented to her wishes, knowing it would make Adrian’s life easier and would get rid of her, but this time she would not be so easily dismissed. 

Averting my eyes, I turned my back to the rack and stashed the bridal robes away once more. I took more time than needed, smoothing down the bag it was stored in and easing an imaginary crease all whilst I gathered the nerve to turn and address the mother of the last real boyfriend I’d had. When I finally did look back at her, as if plucked straight from my nightmare, Mr Pucey had materialised beside his wife. This was the _last_ thing I wanted.

Rolling my lips together, I breathed out shakily as unwanted memories floated into my head. Walking back to the safety of my table, I clutched at the back of my chair and realised that I’d left them standing for a long time. I didn’t need them to criticise my manners - my blood status was enough. 

“Please,” clearing my throat thickly, I didn’t meet their eyes and gestured to the chairs lining the wall where mothers and guests who joined the fitting usually sat. “Please, take a seat.”

“I’d prefer to stand,” Mr Pucey cut in, his harsh voice grating in the gentle quiet of the room. Mrs Pucey, catching the way I jumped slightly, elbowed her husband but they remained standing. 

“Thank you, for taking the time to see us,” Mrs Pucey started as if the relationship we shared facilitated this kind of polite conversation. 

“I would … appreciate if we could skip the pleasantries and get to the point of this conversation.” Uncaring of how rude I might have appeared or even that I was giving them a worse opinion of myself, I wanted to cut this short. If possible, I wanted to spend as little time as possible around them. 

“We would like for you to see Adrian,” Mrs Pucey said straightforward and although I was grateful that she listened to me, I couldn’t help but back away into the wall, needing to put space between us. I shook my head, the negative response on my lips because it would be too painful. To open myself up to Adrian again and to let myself love him again only for them to drive another gap between us, I couldn’t do it. 

“I’m sorry -”

Mr Pucey always frank - and always the one with the poison tongue, cut in, “My son returned from an Auror mission last year on a stretcher -”

Clutching at the back of the chair and using it to keep my knees straight, I tried to speak over the faint ringing in my ears. “Wait, wait -”

He cared little for my reaction, bulldozering ahead. “He has been unconscious for almost a year now. The Healers say his brain is working and alive but he won’t wake up. We think you might be able to help us.”

And then there was silence, with none of us saying a word. I couldn’t look at them, not when my mind was scrambling and trying to grapple with the idea that Adrian was - 

We’d only ended this over a year ago and - 

A knock on the door followed by the receptionist calling out for us to hurry up gave me something to cling to. For now, at least, I could focus on work, just until I got home. 

“Please,” Mrs Pucey said as she and her husband prepared to leave.

I watched them leave, staring at the door long after it was closed. Breathing out shakingly, I did everything I could to hold back the tears, needing to gather myself at least for another couple of hours. A couple of hours and then I could owl Terence - Terence would tell me the truth and if he was working in the hospital, he’d likely know everything about Adrian’s condition. He was too good of a friend to not care that Adrian had landed in the hospital. 

There was another knock on the door and gathering myself enough to call out for them to come in, I turned back to the rack. Pretending to rifle through the rack, I used the time to get the last of my control. If I faltered now, I wouldn’t be a Gryffindor.

Pulling out the bridal robe again, I turned with a winning smile to the expectant bride. “You’re going to be speechless when you see the changes we made.”

* * *

Regardless of how much time I spent at home, sitting on my bed and even rifling through old mementoes that shouldn’t have held such a deep meaning in my life, I would not be convinced. My heart, despite all the protests my mind supplied it with, wouldn’t listen. And once my heart had made up its decision, there was no going back. Even if there _was_ no going back, I dragged my feet every step of the way. The first thing I did was contact Terence, to find out what he knew about Adrian’s condition and if he knew when his parents tended to visit him. Terence was quick to owl me back as if he had the information on hand and wasn’t working on a busy Hospital ward. But, with the information he’d given me as the Healer responsible for Adrian’s treatment, I was able to visit Adrian without running into his parents - their presence would have only made it worse. 

Only now, as I checked into the highly guarded ward to visit Adrian, my eyes lingered on the two names written above my own, I contemplated turning right on my heels and marching back into work - it wouldn’t matter that I’d essentially wasted a part of my lunch hour travelling down here just to travel back. As long as I didn’t run into Adrian’s parents again, it didn’t matter. 

… I hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor by mistake. 

Gathering all the fraying ends of my nerves, I tied them together and used them to strengthen my spine. Thanking the receptionist for his help, I walked down the corridor towards Adrian’s private room and lingered in the doorway of his room. Through the window of the door, I could see the couple sat at the bedside. Mrs Pucey sat closest to Adrian, cradling his hand in hers as Adrian remained, sleepless and immobile. Her eyes flickered upwards, likely to the clock mounted above the door but I moved out of the way nonetheless, not wanting to be seen. 

It was so much easier when they weren’t here. 

_Of all the times I’d imagined this situation - and I’d imagined it **dozens** of times - I’d never thought we’d meet like this again. In every variation of this scene, whether I thought we’d stumble across each other during a run to coffee shop, or he’d be the Auror sent to answer a call because the shop had been robbed, or if our friends have intervened and scheduled an intervention of some sort - I’d always imagined he’d be awake and that we’d be able to have some sort of conversation. Even if it was an awkward one. _

_But this was different - **far** too different from what I’d imagined. _

_Adrian’s skin was a sickly pallor, lacking its usual warmth from the amount of work he did outside and he’d been in a coma for so long that he’d begun to lose muscle mass, looking far weaker than I’d ever known him to be. Even as I sat in the chair farthest away from him, I wanted more than anything for him to open his eyes as if he could sense my presence and look at me. I wanted him to sit up and look me in the eyes and call my name._

_Except, did I really want that - what would I do when faced with Adrian again? Given how I’d made myself leave his life as if I hadn’t been a part of it for years prior. Good Godric, what was I going to do?_

_Dropping my head into my hands, I breathed out softly. Only lifting it when Terence spoke, standing beside Adrian’s head and doing a check of his vitals, “It would help if you talked to him, you know. He can hear everything, and who knows hearing you might be the kick in the arse this tosser needs.”_

_I doubted it, I **really** doubted it. _

_And yet I was desperate enough to try it._

_“Adrian,” I said aloud, his name leaving my lips for the first time in a long time._

_My eyes lingered on Adrian, waiting and watching and there was nothing. Terence, who had been watching Adrian for any sign of response breathed out a disappointed sigh like he’d believed I would be the one who’d manage to wake Adrian up again even when magical medicine didn’t. Still, not dissuaded, Terence dropped back and took me by the arm. Coaxing me from the chair, he had me settle in the one closest to the bed and like I was his marionette to be moved as he wished, he put my hand on Adrian’s. Still, he stood over my shoulder, waiting and watching for some sort of response._

_Again, there was nothing and Terence reached out, prodding my back with the thicker end of his wand. Complying to his silent request, I said, “Adrian, I **really** can’t believe I’m doing this. But I’m kind of worried about what Terence is going to have me do next so if you could just wake up and make this easier for me - ”_

_Nothing._

_Sighing and dropping my hand back, I looked expectantly at Terence who shook his head. Making note of something on Adrian’s patient chart, he said a regretful, “Maybe we try another time, then.”_

Before I could think of retreating and running away, I spied Terence walking down the corridor on his way around the ward. He stopped on his way into one of the rooms, eyes narrowing as if he was daring me to run away. I didn’t put it past him to not _march_ me into the ward and I wondered silently if he had something to do with the Pucey’s coming to visit Adrian at a time when _I_ usually visited him.

Left with no other choice, I opened the door to Adrian’s room and walked in, paying no heed to the way his parents looked at me. Instead, I clung to the strap of my bag and took to the opposite side of Adrian’s bed, settling into the seat there. Clutching my hands together in my lap, I peeked up across the bed towards the Pucey’s who were eyeing me with scepticism. I wouldn’t let them force me away again, not when they had been the ones to search me out in the first place. 

Shuffling to the front of my seat, I moved Adrian’s blanket away just far enough to remove his hand from where the night staff had tucked it under to keep it warm. Holding his hand steady between my own, I tried not to react when his fingers curled around my own as it had done the last few times I’d visited him. His mother noticed though, breathing in sharply and calling out for her husband. Still, I didn’t look at them and just looked into Adrian’s face for signs of waking up. Like each visit before, there was nothing. 

“Come on Adrian,” I pleaded quietly, “I need you to wake up if only so I can tell you off whilst you’re awake to listen.”

“Who do you think you are to be telling my son off?,” his father’s voice cut in, but I didn’t listen to him. Not when Adrian’s arm strained like he was trying to lift it. Good Godric - 

“Only if you’re awake can we talk,” I insisted, hearing Mrs Pucey gasp and murmur in surprise. Peering over at her, I realised Adrian was clinging to her hand as well. 

It was a sign that he was getting there, that he was waking up and it had the words dying on my tongue. Mrs Pucey took over then, the sound of her voice filling the room. I thought quickly, trying to come up with something I could say, with his parents here. With them here, I had to filter everything I wanted to say and - 

“How are we doing in here?” Terence. 

Taking the first opportunity, I leapt to my feet and hurried towards Terence who was entering the room to check up on Adrian. Grabbing him by the sleeve, I corralled him towards the door, knowing he was looking at Adrian’s parents to check on him. 

“He’s showing more signs of waking up,” I said before lowering my voice so I could hiss at him, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Not telling me that they would be here! I wouldn’t be surprised if you told them to come at this time.”

“What did you do to him?” Adrian’s father called our harshly from behind me, and I knew he was talking about me. I didn’t dare look to see just what it was that I’d done this time. 

Terence smiled innocently at me, even when I narrowed my eyes. “I was hoping having the three of you in one room would help him. And look it has, you yourself just said that he’s showing more signs of activity and -”

“Healer Higgs!” It was Mrs Pucey’s voice that cut through him, having Terence turning away from our conversation with a murmured apology. 

I followed behind him from a distance, watching as Terence leaned over Adrian’s bed, shaking Adrian again and letting out a stilted laugh that had me stilling. I didn’t dare move forward.

“You stubborn bastard,” Terence said, his words followed by murmurs of confusion coming from the bed, “Not even being unconscious would have you going back on your word.” 

Breathing out sharply, I peered around Terence, looking at Adrian and finally _finally_ looking into his eyes. It was enough to move me to tears, but I blinked them away harshly. I didn’t dare let them fall, not when Adrian was looking at me like that - like seeing me had pierced through the confusion he was feeling after regaining consciousness. 

“I need to call for more Healers,” Terence announced to the room, sending a message that had more white-coated Healers entering the room.

They circled Adrian’s bed, prompting his parents to get out of the way. I lingered in the back, eyes on Adrian until one of the Healers back got in the way. Silently, I slipped out of the room, unable to give a name to the raucous storm of emotions going through me. 

It was just as well he’d woken up, it was getting time for me to head back to work anyway. 

* * *

I stayed well away from Adrian. Despite wanting to see him, despite wanting it more than anything - even if only it was a second’s glance that could wipe away the lingering image of a comatose Adrian - I forced myself to stay away. At first, I convinced myself that I didn’t want to interfere with his healing, that he was being kept under strict watch to monitor his condition and to help him regain full control of himself once more. But even after getting notification that I was free to visit him from Terence in the form of a very thinly masked telling off, I stayed firmly away from him.

And then, of course, because Terence was the sort of Healer who couldn’t keep his nose out of his patient’s business, he came to the shop to find me. The bastard scheduled an appointment, and as I helped him to adjust the fitting of the robes for an upcoming wedding where he was one of the groomsmen, he used it as an opportunity to corner me. 

“So,” Terence started as I walked around him, as he stood still on the pedestal. His eyes followed me as I walked to his back, straightening out the black material across his shoulders. 

“Get a move on, Higgs,” I prompted, removing the clothespin I held from between my teeth and using it to pin down a fold that the groom _insisted_ be in place for _fashion_. “You need to stop beating around the bush and get on with it. _But,_ just remember I’ve got access to dozens of pins so at least think through what you want to say before I turn you into a pincushion.”

“Salazar, Jareau.” Shaking his head, Terence watched as I reached for the fabric marker and gently marked out where his shoulders ended - leaving a bit of extra fabric spare in case. “When are you planning on meeting Adrian - _ow_. Why did you prick me?”

“Because you’re clearly not getting the message I’m trying to send you.” Grumbling under my breath about how Slytherins and Gryffindors weren’t all that different - we were both bullheaded and stubborn. Crouching down in front of him, I worked at the hem and tried to change the subject, “Why does the groom want the groomsmen to have extra fabric at the back of the robes? Does he realise it’s going to look like a train?”

“Chances are he’ll change his mind so don’t make any permanent plans on the train.” Nodding and accepting the advice, I checked that the hem was level when Terence warned, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to switch topics. Tell you what, why don’t I go with you to see him? Don’t look at me like that Jareau - I’m a Healer, a damned good one and if I have to manhandle you into the hospital to help a patient recover, then I will.”

“If I go to see him at lunch, will you get off my case?” I demanded huffily, standing up and giving him an unimpressed look. He seemed all too pleased, stepping off from the pedestal and approaching the mirror. He turned this way and that, checking the proposed fittings and satisfied, he gently removed the robe which at this point was held together solely by clothespins and handed it to me. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“It’s hard not to,” he admitted, watching as I draped it over the tailoring dummy, using some extra clothespins to set it into place. “I’m going to check the register to make sure you attend.”

“Now I know why Gryffindors and Slytherins aren’t supposed to mix.” Terence didn’t so much as bat an eye at my words, simply watching as I rolled the tailoring dummy into the corner of the room.

“Aren’t I the last appointment you have before lunch? Come on, let’s go. You can get lunch at the Hospital canteen and -”

“Good Godric, the next time I’m in the hospital, I don’t want you as my Healer!” Terence just grinned in the face of my hostility. 

“You don’t get to choose your Healer.” Looking away from him, I grabbed my coat and my bag, gesturing for Terence to lead the way.

Heading out of my fitting room/office, I locked the door behind me and when Terence started to whistle because he was in such a _good mood_ , I eyed him dirtily. “Knowing me, I’d wind up with you.”

“And I’d have you in top shape as soon as possible.”

Grabbing me by the arm, Terence walked me out of the shop, not even letting me speak to the receptionist as we walked to the nearest apparition point. I barely got a word out before we were away and apparating into the courtyard of the Hospital. Terence, likely knowing how great a flight risk I was (and I was certain Adrian had warned him about it, at some point), grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me through the Hospital until we reached the lesser guarded ward the Adrian had been moved into.

“It’s room 177,” Terence offered, pointing down the hallway with the quill he used to sign my name onto the register. “I’ll finish up here, go ahead. And don’t make me come find you.”

“You’re so bloody _pushy_ ,” I exclaimed, using the last of the annoyance I felt towards Terence to take me away from him and towards Adrian’s room. My annoyance was certainly larger than the trepidation I felt at seeing Adrian again. 

Making it to the door of his room, I stood outside the closed door, wanting nothing more than to run away. It would be different if I was here when I’d come to terms with it on my own, not when I’d been corralled here against my wishes. Pushing the door open, I stopped still in the doorway, realising I had intruded on what looked like a tentative moment between mother and son. 

“I’m sorry,” I started, already backtracking out of the room and preparing to shut the door. 

“No,” Mrs Pucey declared softly, removing her hands from Adrian’s and still, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her son. No, my eyes greedily looked over Adrian who was alive and awake and was looking at me with such expressive eyes that I couldn’t imagine they’d ever been lifeless. “You should stay, Miss Jareau.”

“No, no.” Finally averting my eyes and shaking my head, I went to leave the room again. But she was easing out of the chair, approaching me and stilling me with a gentle hand on my arm. I looked down at it in surprise, knowing my eyes were wide and that I probably looked like a fool, but I couldn’t compose myself. I’d never expected her to touch me.

“You should stay,” she insisted, squeezing past me through the door. She paused outside, looking back at her son and assuring him, “I’ll come and see you tomorrow, Adrian.” 

“See you then, Mother.” 

I waited until Mrs Pucey had left before turning with hesitant eyes towards Adrian who was studying me once more as if I was something he couldn’t wrap his head around - as if he didn’t know me anymore. Swallowing past the thick lump in my throat, I searched for something to say as I walked properly into the room and shut the door behind me. And then, before my hesitation could grow too much, he was giving me such a beautiful smile that I wanted to return it. But I didn’t yet have it in me. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” he started conversationally as if I was the only one who’d experienced the year and some worth of separation. And in a way, I had. To him, a far shorter amount of time had passed and so perhaps it made sense that he was finding this so much easier than I was. When I still didn’t move, he gestured for me to take a seat beside him. 

“Adrian,” I tried to say, his name coming out strangled between my throat. Knowing I would struggle to get another word out, I took the seat. Removing my bag from my shoulder, I settled it on my lap and fidgeted with the buckle, needing something to do to distract me. I certainly couldn’t look at him.

“You know, you haven’t come to see me in so long that I was convinced the last time was a dream. You weren’t there for that long, either.” It should have sounded accusatory, but it didn’t. He almost sounded fond and he had no right to be sounding so fond. “I used to have recurrent dreams of you over the last year. Terence tried to explain the reasoning behind it all, but for the life of me, I can’t wrap my head around it. But, I think my brain was comforting me.”

“You -” Clearing my throat, I asked, “What happened to you?”

“Auror mission,” he said simply. Holding out a hand towards me, Adrian said nothing and just held my eyes, silently bidding for me to take his hand. Through all my hesitance, he continued to look at me and then I slipped my hand into his. Covering the top of my hand with his free one, he held it steady in his lap and finally continued to speak, “My team were off in France, working on a collaborative mission. We thought the mission was over, but after we’d rounded up all the suspects, someone shot me with a spell in the back of the head and next thing I knew, I woke up with Terence’s face hovering over me.”

It was the most he’d ever said to me about his Auror work because he wanted to shield me from it. Simultaneously, it was too much and not enough. 

“The team came to see me after I was moved here,” he said softly and I knew he was saying it to fill the silence. “They assured me they handled the rest of it.”

“Good,” I said so passionately that he chuckled quietly under his breath. “I hope the fucker that hit you got prison time.”

“She did - currently residing in Azkaban.” 

“... Good,” I went to draw my hands back, falling silent when he held my hand firm, reluctant to let go of me. Lifting my eyes to his face, I decided to take the chance to ask him the question that had plagued me since he’d woken up. “How did Terence know you’d wake up? He mentioned something about words?”

“ _Salazar_.” He dropped his head back, staring up at the ceiling and not looking at me as he spoke, as if he was confessing his most guarded secret to me, “After we split - I might have drunk too much and Terence was the only one with enough loyalty to stay with me and make sure I didn’t drink too much.”

“And?”

“And I said something about doing my best to make sure you weren’t left alone with my parents because I didn’t want them ganging up on you again. Not with the way it turned out last time.”

Without a word, and unable to say anything, I forcefully drew my hand back. I was back to fidgeting with my bag, even when Adrian lifted his head to look at me. What was I supposed to say to that? 

“Princess -”

“Don’t please,” I said abruptly, standing and throwing my bag onto my shoulder. “Just - don’t call me that.” 

And before Adrian could even get a full sentence out, I was heading for the door. Pushing the door open, I knew I wouldn’t come back to see him. My heart just couldn’t take it. 

“Get better soon,” I said before leaving and not really meaning it, “Hopefully we’ll see each other.” 

* * *

With the before-school rush of customers finally coming to a close, the shop was running as usual. There was a steady list of customers I had to tend to, but there was no rushing and panicking as the endless line of customers never came to an end. In fact, because there were fewer people I needed to tend to, I could spend more time working on hand-tailoring the robes without having to stay in the shop past closing. 

I had to hand it to Terence, I thought as I walked around the tailoring dummy that still wore his robes. Although the fabric had been stitched together, all that remained were the finishing touches and then he could come in for a final fitting. But, he’d been right. The groom had backtracked on the ‘train’ at the back of the robes, and instead, he settled for a more traditional look. It would never go out of fashion.

Crouching down behind the dummy, I adjusted the train, marking out the excess fabric that would need to be removed and pinning it back to work out where the new hem would go. Satisfied, I stood again, fixing the label of the robe which had yet to be correctly folded down and smoothed out. Terence would have to try it on, just so I could get a good measure of how far down he wanted it to go. But, I was done for now. 

Rolling the dummy into the corner of the workspace where the rest of the tailoring dummies were kept, I locked and warded the room. Heading out into reception, I glanced at the clock behind the desk and was pleased that I could check out a little early today. Just as I went to sign out for the day, the receptionist cleared her throat and gestured over her shoulder.

“You have one more person to tend to today,” she started apologetically, meeting my eyes when I sighed. 

Gathering myself and turning with a smile, I tried not to let it fade when I realised that it was Adrian sitting in the waiting area. Meeting my eyes, he smiled softly, waving his hand in silent greeting as he finally stood. He looked like he wanted to say something and knowing that we had an audience who was _definitely_ listening, I beat him to it. 

“Come into the consultation room and we can talk in there,” I said, gesturing for him to follow after me. 

I didn’t wait to see him trailing after me, I knew he would. Instead, I lead him through to past the changing rooms, the workspace and my office, into the consultation room. Opening the door and holding it for him, I couldn’t even bring myself to meet his eyes when he walked right past me. Adrian took his time, surveying the room and I wondered if he was trying to find changes or if like me, he was remembering the number of times he’d visited me and I’d corralled him into this room so we could have some time together. 

“So, let’s get started, shall we?” Walking into the room, I took to the table and pulled out a sketchpad and a pencil. Twiddling it between my fingers, I looked expectantly to Adrian who settled into the other chair, looking at me. “Adrian?”

“It looks like I can’t get out of being a groom’s man,” he said with a shrug, “Maybe I should’ve woken up a week later, huh? Is there too little time?”

“No, no.” Flipping through the sketchpad to where I had sketched Terence’s robes, I slid the pad towards him. Updating the sketch with the latest changes, I explained, “These are what Terence’s look like. As long as I get your measurements, we can work from there.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” he said so faintly that I glanced up at him, realising belatedly that whilst he too had been leaning over the sketchpad, he hadn’t been paying the drawing any heed. 

“Right - the measurements.”

Adrian obeyed the silent command. He rose to his feet, walking to the middle of the room and I reached into my drawer, pulling out my bewitched tape measure and set it off. It approached Adrian, and I followed it behind, preparing to make note of each measurement.

“When were you discharged?” I asked softly, making note of the width of his shoulders and unable to put the question off any longer.

“I was waiting for you to ask.” Peeking into the mirror, I realised he was smiling. When me and my tape measure moved on, he finally answered, “Yesterday. Today is the earliest Terence gave me permission to go out and about. That arsehole became much bossier when he became a Healer.” 

“... Right.” Once I’d recovered all the measurements, I summoned the tape measure back to me. Reclaiming my seat, I rolled it up and removed the charm, shoving it once more into the drawer. “We don’t have much time left so we’re going to have to arrange each of the fittings every close to each other. I’ll owl you when it’s time to arrange your first fitting and -”

Realising that I was attempting to bring the meeting to an end, Adrian spoke over me, needing to cut in. He knew me well enough to understand that if I was given the chance, I’d have him out of this room as soon as possible and would once more be leaving for the day. It was easier for me to head out now and he wasn’t going to make this easy for me. 

“You keep disappearing,” he said abruptly, turning to face me. He stood, arms crossed and feet planted firmly - everything about him, from the way he stood and the way he was looking at me, was classic Adrian when he was in a confrontational mode. Only, when it came to me, his confrontations always came down to discussions about _where our relationship was going, or we really should move in together - just to make financial sense and_ \- “Is it becoming a habit of yours?”

“... it might be.”

“Well,” he sighed and shook his head. Still, he continued, “Why were you there when I woke up?”

“Your parents wanted me there,” I said with a shrug, “They came to see me and told me you were in the hospital and they thought that having me there might help you wake up -”

“And then when I _was_ awake, you disappeared again.” 

“You’d woken up,” I said as if that explained it all. And it kind of did. His parents had gotten over their dislike of me because Adrian was asleep and now that he was awake, I knew they would revert back to it all. I would be an idiot if I remained knowing exactly the sorts of looks, or even the remarks I would have to endure. “Your father - and your mother to a certain extent wouldn’t have wanted me around.” 

“And what about me?” he asked. “What if I wanted you around?”

I had no answer to that. And because I had no answer, I just shook my head and picked up the parchment where I’d written his measurements down. “Now that I’ve got these, I can start working on your robes. Like I said before, I’ll owl you when it’s time for you to come in next. So until then, you can head back.” 

* * *

It was too early on my day off for visitors. And yet, there _still_ was someone knocking on my front door even before I’d drank my first cup of coffee. Anyone who knew me, had the sense at least to wait until the afternoon to come and visit me because chances were, I spent the night before doing some of the embroideries by hand on robes that had been commissioned from our shop. Groaning and rubbing at my eyes, I walked through my flat, dragging my slippers as I went. Cradling my coffee in my hands, I mumbled curses under my breath and got to the front door.

Opening the door, all my words fell silent when I found Adrian standing in the hallway as if it wasn’t strange for him to be here. If it had been a year ago or perhaps earlier than that, it wouldn’t have been strange to see him there - even if it was so early. It would make more sense for him to be in here _with_ me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, barely able to keep my surprise from tainting my words. Adjusting my hold on my coffee, I took a long sip so I had something to do. “Especially so early in the day.”

“It’s almost 12,” he said like he was a stranger that had no way of knowing my sleeping habits. “I dropped by the shop only to find out that you’re not working today. I wasn’t sure if it was because I visited you yesterday -”

“This has been scheduled for weeks,” I insisted. I might have taken to avoid him, but I wouldn’t let him pin this on me as well. Today wasn’t me running away, it was just a normal day off. “So don’t worry, you didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything.”

“Good.” He nodded, looking around the hallway once. “That’s good. Can I come in, princess?”

Unabashed, he held my eyes, knowing full well how I’d reacted the last time he’d called me by that nickname. He waited for me to do something, whether it was calling him out on the name, turn him away or do the unlikely thing and let him in. I wanted to remind him that I’d asked him not to call me by that name before. But instead, I stepped aside, opened the front door further and let him through. Adrian, knowing how likely I was to change my mind, walked inside with little preamble. 

Shutting the door behind him, I followed after Adrian who knew me well enough to take off his shoes. Silently, I watched as he summoned slippers - the ones reserved for him to wear in my flat - and wore them. With slow steps, Adrian made his way through the flat, running his fingers nostalgically over everything that he came into contact with. I trailed behind Adrian, matching each of his footsteps and content to just watch his back. 

It was a sight I never thought I’d see again; Adrian so at ease in my home like it was _his_ home. Despite all the time that had passed, he still looked like he belonged here, like every piece of furniture I owned had been chosen specifically with him in mind - like he suited the theme of the room. At that moment, before he turned to look at me, I was hit by two realisations; that I missed him, and that I did the right thing by avoiding him. It was only when I kept away from him that I wasn’t struck by horrified loneliness at what I’d done to us. 

When Adrian turned, I schooled my expression in the next instant. Regarding him with what I hoped was cool interest, I knew I’d failed. Adrian always claimed I had the worst poker face and his occupation had trained him up to be able to see even the slightest microexpressions everyone wore. I might as well have been wearing my heart on my sleeve. 

“Why are you here?” I asked, walking past Adrian and into my kitchen where I’d left my wand. My coffee, which was beginning to go lukewarm, was desperately in need of a warming charm. Casting the charm and realising I’d yet to be answered, I looked back at Adrian who lingered, silent as a shadow, besides my kettle. “Well?”

“We were together for 5 years,” he announced so suddenly that I could only look at him in surprise. His words cut through whatever composure I’d tried to gather. I really hadn’t expected him to bring up the past and maybe that was foolish of me. But, everyone always claimed that Gryffindors were foolish and who was I to defy expectations? 

“Adrian -” He shook his head just once, but it was enough to have me falling silent. We’d learned, early on, that when we got into _discussions_ I had the knack for talking over him, and we’d agreed that a shake of his head was the sign that he wanted to be heard. And I’d let him say all he wanted. I owed him that much at least. 

“We dated for 5 years, and you ended it all with a letter. You let me come home from an Auror mission to a bloody letter.” His words quickened, finally pouring out of him as he confessed what he felt. “You didn’t have it in you to at least wait until I came home, to even tell me to my face that you were leaving me. Or even _why_ you were leaving me.”

When he fell silent, holding my eyes and waiting for a response, I didn’t know which one to give him. He hadn’t asked me a single question to respond to. All I could do was apologise to him, even when I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it. 

“I’m sorry -”

Sure enough, he sighed heavily. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I just - I want to know why you couldn’t have waited for me to come home?”

“Because you would’ve talked me out of it,” I answered truthfully. “You would’ve asked me to stay and you’d know exactly how to get me to change my mind.” 

“You were just going to leave and let me resent you, weren’t you?” When he moved to approach me, I just waited, knowing he would stop himself from actually reaching me - he didn’t have it in him. Although he was closer now, he still didn’t close the distance. “You were fine with me resenting you and never finding out that my parents ganged up on you and wore you down. Don’t try to deny it, princess.”

“It’s not something to deny,” I said steadily. “And frankly, since we’re not together I can vent this - your parents were cowards, waiting until you were away on a months-long mission to seek me out and to remind me how little I was worth, that I was bringing down the heir to the Pucey family. When you were around, it didn’t matter what I’d heard because I had you. But when you were gone, it was too much to handle. If I had stayed to talk to you, I would concede and the cycle would start all over again the moment you left for another mission.” 

“It would’ve been that bad, to stay with me?”

“I’d have had to leave eventually.” Dropping my eyes, I admitted, “The longer I stayed, the harder things would’ve been in the end.”

“Because you’re so certain that you’d have left in the end?” At my nod, he blew out a deep breath, “This is pointless, we’re talking in circles.” 

Tentatively, I studied him. He wasn’t angry, I could tell just from the way he was holding himself. He seemed - resigned, defeated even. “So what do you want to do now?”

“We need to get this all out.” He ran a hand through his hair, “Only then can we get some closure and move on.”

“You haven’t?”

He watched me with narrowed eyes, “You _have_?” 

I wanted to remind him that it had been a year - but, it hadn’t quite been a year for him, had it? And I knew he’d see right through my lie so I answered truthfully, “No, I haven’t. But you’re right, we need to talk about this. Do you want tea or coffee or something?”

“You don’t have anything stronger?”

“Don’t push me Pucey, the last thing I need is for me to give you alcohol and wind up with Terence on my tail. Tea or coffee, those are all your choices.”

“Coffee, please.” 

After having given Adrian his coffee, we both lingered in our silence. Sitting across from one another at my table, we held our silence, neither of us knowing what to say. Cradling my new mug of coffee in my hands, I stared down into the dark liquid and wondered who would be the first to cave and speak. Given past experiences, it would be either of us. If he knew it was really difficult for me, Adrian would be the one to offer the olive branch, to speak first. But if it was difficult for _him_ to speak, I would bite the bullet because we couldn’t sit here and waste the rest of the day away. Rather, it was in my best interest to get him out of my home as soon as possible. The sooner he left, the less time I spent with him, and the smaller the chance I had of being convinced by him to stay. But did he still want me to stay? 

Left with no choice but to speak first, I set my coffee mug down. Leaning back in my chair and drawing my hands in my lap, I did Adrian the decency of looking into his eyes as I talked to him. “Where are your parents? Do they know you’re here?” 

“I don’t live with them anymore,” he said with a scowl. “You know that.” 

“For all I knew you were entrusted into their care upon being discharged,” I justified with a shrug. “But it makes sense, I guess. You couldn’t exactly be here if you were with your parents.” 

“I’m not a child.” He clenched his jaw harshly, before looking me in the eye, like he knew I was bringing up his parents to drive a wedge between us, to get him to leave. 

“If your parents knew where you were, they’d be quick on your tail.” Circling the rim of the mug with my finger, I mused, “I always did think that a certain _type_ of pureblood parents were too involved in raising their … _heirs_.” 

“My mother knows.” I lifted my eyes then, no longer following the motion of my finger. “My mother knows I’m here and I agree, some are too involved. Maybe because my parents were too involved you didn’t think of me as a man capable of making my own decisions about who I was involved with.” 

Godric, this conversation was not going the way I hoped. Holding my tongue, I said nothing. Now that he’d opened his mouth, he would need no prompting. 

“My mother was the one that told me you still lived here.” Adrian, pushing his own untouched coffee away from him, rested his forearms on the table. “I thought you moved because you weren’t sure you’d renew your contact.” 

“Your mother told you?” I repeated hesitantly; it made little sense. She shouldn’t have told him where I was - it was more in character for her to send him on a wild goose chase, maybe even claiming she had no idea. To me, that made more sense and even with Adrian in front of me, I struggled to make sense of any of it. How could she have let him come here?

“Apparently you used to write to each other?”

“No, _she_ wrote to me,” I corrected. I’d long given up reacting to her letters or responding to them in any way. At first, her letters had been hostile, bordering on bringing me to release her son from my clutches and I’d quickly learned that any replies I wrote back weren’t received well so it made little sense for me to respond. I still read her letters, even as they grew less hostile and even polite, but I wrote nothing to her. She could think I was rude, she’d always thought it, so why did it matter? 

Adrian gave a call of my name, making me realise that he’d been talking. Shaking my head and apologising slowly, I asked him to repeat what he’d said. He didn’t, not at first. For some time, he just sat and watched me in the way he did whenever he was thinking about what he wanted to say. 

Eventually, he sighed, slumping in his chair. “I always thought that I did a good job of being the middle ground between you and my parents. I guess I found out too late that I was shit at it, huh?”

“You succeeded to some extent - they weren’t outwardly rude when you were around.”

He saw right through it, “They had to wait until I wasn’t around to say what they really thought.” His hand flinched on the table, the way it did whenever he was restraining his urge to reach out for me. “I should’ve known that it wasn’t fair for you to handle it on your own.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” I insisted. “I knew your parents had issues with my blood and I could handle it all - with grace even. But, I couldn’t stand watching you suffer and have to buckle under it all. It wasn’t fair for you to be in the middle and I couldn’t keep you in the middle of it all.” 

“I was doing fine.” He was still so stubborn. Not even a coma had forced that out of him. 

“ _No_ ,” I insisted firmly and preparing to speak my truth, “you weren’t. You just refused to admit it to yourself but I saw it - how you were turning away from your parents but missing them at the same time. I didn’t want to keep doing that to you and maybe I was always looking for a way out so I didn’t have to be the reason you were hurting anymore. When your parents called me on that day to see them, I knew what was going to happen and I took the chance. It was easier having them to blame for the hurt I brought to the pair of us.” 

He breathed in sharply, asking into the still silence of the room, “Why didn’t you just talk to me about the way you were feeling? Or had you already decided for yourself that I wasn’t worth it?”

* * *

Despite it all, Adrian wound up spending the night on my sofa. Our conversation, stilted and far more awkward than any we’d ever shared before, lasted well into the night with us airing the grievances we’d kept to ourselves during our relationship, reminiscing on the good times and eventually, winding up with more unanswered questions than we’d had in the beginning. In the end, I hadn’t felt right about sending him home in the middle of the night, something within me was screaming out that if I sent him out, then there was no guaranteeing that he’d be safe. There really was no guarantee that whoever had attacked him wouldn’t through some means make him wind up in the hospital once more. It was the risk he took for his profession but if I could have him safe for one more night and not travelling under the cover of darkness, then I wouldn’t mind the awkwardness of housing him for a night. 

When I woke up the next morning, I hesitated for a moment, just sitting in bed and thinking to Adrian who was likely still asleep. He shouldn’t have been on the sofa- it made more sense for him to be sleeping in my bed on his side of the bed. He shouldn’t have been clutching a pillow and should have instead been holding onto me. It was almost like the past. Almost.

He was wearing his pyjamas, pyjamas I’d stored for him under my bed and never got round to returning to him, and if he looked under the sink, he’d find the box full of his things that I’d tucked away - his razor and half empty bottles of his toiletries that really should have been thrown away. It was almost like the past and yet it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough. 

Realising that I’d lingered unnecessarily for too long, I forced myself out of bed and to the bathroom where I got ready for the day. Pushing my hair away from my face and tying it at the nape of my neck, I walked towards the kitchen, passing by the front room where Adrian was sleeping. Or, he was _supposed_ to be sleeping. He was awake already, sitting up and seemingly staring off into nothing as he looked at the lit fire. But, I realised as I got closer to him, I realised he was looking at the pictures on the fireplace. Did he realise that apart from one, the rest were the same? Did he know which one was missing? 

“Sorry,” I said softly, walking around him and reaching the window and pulling back the curtains. “I forgot you’re used to waking up early.” 

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, standing from the sofa and cracking his back. “I haven’t been able to sleep too well since leaving the hospital, that’s all.”

I paused, watching as Adrian made his way towards the bathroom, my eyes lingering on his back. He paused on the threshold of the front room as if he could feel my concern radiating from me. He likely could. So I turned on my heels, making sure that if he turned, all he’d see was my back, as I walked into the kitchen to fix us some breakfast. 

Maybe, once he’d left, I could write to Terence to see if there was something he could do about Adrian’s inability to sleep. Even if he couldn’t administer him a prescription for a potion, maybe there were some lifestyle changes he could make? It wasn’t odd for Adrian to have trouble sleeping, I was used to it. From what I could remember chamomile tea and even yoga had helped him - was he keeping up with any of it? Or was there - 

Arms, strong and familiar, took hold of me from behind. I started from my thoughts, my protests falling silent as I was drawn back against a broad chest. Swallowing thickly, but not saying anything, I breathed out shakily when Adrian dropped his chin onto my shoulder. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, drawing out his question. I knew, without having to look at him or even to ask him aloud, that he was waiting for me to draw away, to put up a fight. And I should have. It made all the sense in the world for me to push him away, to demand to know what he thought he was doing.

It made no sense whatsoever for me to lay my own arms on top of him and to actively lean back against Adrian, contenting in the way I fitted so easily against him. It made no sense for me to answer truthfully, “You.”

He breathed out a pleased huff against my neck and the ticklish sensation was what finally cut through it all, wanting me to push away from him. Adrian’s arms tightened around me like he knew exactly what I was thinking. Still, I turned in his arms, not drawing too far back, but not submitting to him either. I was torn, and I wondered if he knew it. Part of me wanted to give in, and part of me refused to do so, not wanting to have suffered without him for so long. I wanted our separation to mean something - or else, what was the point?. 

Reading the conflict in my eyes and knowing when I needed calming, he grasped my chin, lifting my head towards him and kissing me in a way that had me thinking that he too had dreamed of this kiss over and over again. Had the idea of it plagued him as well? The past year faded away, the separation meaning nothing. If anything had gone wrong, this opportunity that was granted to me, might not have been possible. Adrian could’ve easily passed and I’d never be given the chance to hold him again.

All too soon, he drew away. I didn’t dare avert my eyes, not even when he probed softly, “Can you give that up?”

Wordlessly, because I didn’t know how to vocalise what I really wanted to say, I drew him towards me and kissed him again. It was enough. For him, it was always enough. 


	2. Epilogue: 10 Years Later

_10 YEARS LATER_

Sometimes, I couldn’t believe the life I had now. There were still some mornings where I woke up, far earlier now that I was used to waking up right alongside Adrian, where I just lied awake, trying to go back to sleep. In those moments where I was half sleeping and half-dreaming, I sometimes, somehow, managed to forget the life I lived now - that the shop was mine now, that I had married Adrian and that we’d even started our family together. And then, all it would take was an arm around my waist, drawing me back against Adrian’s slumbering chest, or the pitter-patter of insistent little feet as they ran into our room, refusing to allow us a lie-in, despite us having earned it. 

“Mum!” the call had me drawing out from my thoughts, looking at the plate of sandwiches that I was supposed to bring outside for the kids. Walking out of the room and into the garden, I almost wound up dropping the plate in my surprise. 

“ _Adrian!”_ I called out, knowing I sounded a little shrill. Setting the sandwich plate on the garden table, I hurried towards my husband who had the _gall_ to laugh at my worry at discovering him putting our 5-year-old son onto a broom. “ _What_ are you doing?”

“It’s perfectly safe,” he assured me, even as he continued to hold our son, holding him steady on the broom that hovered a foot or two off the ground. “I’m right here next to him.”

“He’s too young!” I insisted, helping Adrian hold onto our son and keeping him steady. Over his head, I gave Adrian a pointed look so he knew that I was holding my true, more intense thoughts to myself. But he’d get an ear full when Noah wasn’t around. “You waited until Maria was 8.”

He made a face that had me narrowing my eyes, “Well…”

“You did _not_.”

“Didn’t you realise that she was unusually good at riding from her first lesson?” Adrian released his hands, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing when I gave a screech and held onto Noah more steadily. He even met my eyes, offering me a warm smile that had me narrowing my eyes.

“I just thought she was talented.” 

“And she is - but she’d also had secret lessons since she turned 5.” 

Pressing incredulous hands to my hips, I reminded myself that there were listening ears and that I would give him a _good_ telling off tonight. He knew how I felt about these death traps and he even claimed to understand my reasoning that the brooms used at Hogwarts were even better regulated than the ones he was wanting to teach our son with - the one he’d already used to teach Maria. Good Godric, what was I - 

Adrian’s triumphant cry brought a halt to my mental practices of the lecture I was going to give him. I realised far too late, that I’d let go of Noah who was nipping away, hovering only a few feet above the ground on his training broom but travelling at too fast a speed for me to be calm. Noah was laughing, pleased and excited and Adrian had that same proud look on his face - the same one he wore when our kids walked for the first time, when they were successfully potty trained and when they said their first words. 

“He’ll be fine,” Adrian assured me again, coming up beside me and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I dug my feet into the ground, refusing to move and yet I was drawn so easily against his side that it was a little insulting. But my son’s laughter, echoing around the garden melted my anger and I wrapped my arm around Adrian’s waist, “He’s under my expert guidance.”

I held my tongue, to stop myself from reminding Adrian just how often _he’d_ fallen off his broom. Instead, I sighed heavily when with a quick flick of his wand, he righted Noah who almost tumbled off his broom. Ignoring the death glare I had aimed at his face, Adrian called out to Noah, “Keep your hands on the broom handle!”

Noah, finally spooked by his near tumble, clutched at the broom and wasn’t playing around anymore. Or rather, that was what I’d hoped. It took shockingly little time for Noah to be playing around and attempting to do tricks on the broom that he was _way_ too unskilled for. They were going to be the death of me. 

“Mum! Dad!” Maria, my saving grace amongst all this Pucey male madness, ran out of the house, holding hands with her grandmother and bringing her out of the house. 

Adrian, surprised at seeing his mother, brought Noah’s broom gently to the ground with a murmured spell. Noah let out a saddened whine, preparing to throw a tantrum. But only until he spied his grandmother and then he was running on stumpy legs towards her. Mrs Pucey, the older Mrs Pucey opened her arms for her grandson and cradled him close. She held both her grandchildren together, cooing to them. I realised quickly that _I_ was the one on the receiving end of a silent look this time. 

“Did I forget to mention that I invited your mother?” I started hesitantly, turning my eyes away from our children and looking to Adrian. He stood uncertainly, looking between his mother and me as if he didn’t know how to progress. I was quick to speak, preparing to overload him with information until he made up his mind, “You know she loves the kids and that she’s always been around whenever they needed her. Your father might not have been interested in the children - he didn’t even turn up when they’d been born! - but she was there. She was even there in the birthing room and she’s also in the process of leaving your father and she needs family around her whilst -” 

“She’s leaving my dad!” he asked heatedly in a whisper. He turned to face me, giving his back to the children and looking at me with wide eyes. “No one told me!”

“Oh, I thought you knew.” Closing the distance between us, I put a hand on his chest and assured him, “She wants to be with her family and your father is still _so angry_ all the time. She shouldn’t have to live her life bearing the brunt of that anger. We can talk about this later when the kids are asleep, but for now, let’s just have some time as a family. Alright?”

He sent a conflicted look towards his mother, “Alright.” 


End file.
